


but i'm in this space with you

by orphan_account



Category: Scooby Doo on Zombie Island (1998)
Genre: Drabble, F/F, Post-Canon, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 04:06:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13356144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Daphne and Velma, for once, are both off driving duty for the night at the same time.





	but i'm in this space with you

**Author's Note:**

> > [send me](https://userleia.tumblr.com/ask) a ship + [one of these](https://userleia.tumblr.com/post/169638254509/send-me-a-ship-and-one-of-these-and-ill-write-a) and i'll write a mini fic  
>  _prompt: (from @afroglesbian) For the fic meme: Things you said @ 1 am daphne x velma_
> 
>   
>  sorry for any typos
> 
> title source: [kehlani - honey.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g9hXwScHqzM)  
> 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Daphne and Velma, for once, are both off driving duty for the night at the same time. Shaggy, Scooby, and Fred are in the front seat; the sound of candy bar wrappers being crinkled is barely audible over the music the radio is humming out; and, besides the moonlight streaming in through the windshield, it is completely dark in the back of the Mystery Machine.

Velma is absently thumbing through another volume of _Haunted Americana_ in the dark, sitting up with her back against rise of the front seat. Daphne is next to her—below her—on her—she doesn’t really know what to call it: her head is pillowed on Velma’s thigh, the rest of her curled tight into herself; the old blanket Shaggy dug out of one of the compartments is coarse but warm; it is spread out, covering both of them to the waist.

Daphne stirs. Velma puts her guidebook to the side and says, “it was just a pothole,” even though she suspects Daphne had a troubling dream as she slept. Her hand hovers above Daphne, uncertain as to whether she should touch her cheek, her hair, or simply withdraw it—

“I dreamed of Simon,” Daphne murmurs, so quiet that Velma has to lean closer to hear her better over the droning noise at the front of the van. Turning her head to look Velma in the eye, she smiled, and assured her, “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

Velma blinked. “I didn’t say anything.”

“I can see it on your face,” Daphne says, voice thick with sleep as she yawns and draws closer to Velma. Velma, in that moment, is extremely aware of the fact that Daphne is resting her cheek on her bare thigh, that, though however faded it is, Daphne’s perfume—lavender, and something endless, Velma can’t remember—is taking the place of the fried food that Shaggy and Scooby had grabbed before departing from New Orleans, that Daphne is scooting closer—

Daphne reaches up and takes Velma’s hand. “I don’t want to sleep alone tonight,” she mumbles as her eyes begin to flutter shut. Whatever she says next is muffled, but Velma can feel it well enough: _stay with me_.

“All right,” Velma says, squeezing Daphne’s hand. “I’ll be right here.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
